Dead Canaries Don't Sing
by Sunflowers In Moscow
Summary: "Because two can keep a secret if one of them is dead." It seems Romano should have kept his mouth shut. Now, Veneziano is going to show his dearest brother why keeping the secret would have been in his best interests, and it's not going to be pretty. Warnings: 2P!Italy, profanity, violence.


**_I don't own__ Hetalia_**

* * *

The paperwork was mounting. Romano sighed as he pushed some hair out of his face, and scribbled the estimated total on the bottom of the page before sliding it into the much smaller completed pile. Italy was having money problems, like most of Europe, and the increased filing seemed to come with the problem. Lately, Romano had been doing much more work, to his displeasure. He rarely had the time to visit anyone save his brother, and going out on the town was a no-go.

He wasn't even allowed to go for a drive, because if he smashed his car again, they couldn't afford to buy a new one.

It sucked.

He started on another sheet, his mind drifting in boredom as the repetitive sentences kept coming. He thought back to his brother, and a scowl settled on his face. Speaking of the little _bastardo_! Veneziano had vanished a couple of days ago, and as each hour passed, he found himself getting more and more irritated. His _fratellino _was no doubt avoiding the work that Romano was now burdened with, and he suspected that if he was really concerned, he could go to the macho-potato's house and drag the layabout back - because where else would he be? Romano had learned to accept his brother's inexplicable love of the kraut, even if he didn't like it.

But really, he found without his brother's presence the job was easier, with less distractions.

He slid over another piece of paper, and looked up at the clock. Quarter to one. Romano blinked. He'd been working for longer than he thought.

He dropped the pen onto the desk and cracked his knuckles with a sigh. A selfish smile spread across his face as he thought about the food waiting to be made downstairs.

Lunchtime.

* * *

Romano sat down at the table and rubbed his hands with an air of satisfaction. The meal wasn't anything fancy, just _lasagna_ with some _pomodorini _on the side. The _lasagna_ was steaming, and he spyed the hot cheese with some anticipation. He could imagine the taste already.

And he knew he fully deserved such a treat, what with his no-good brother fucking off, and all the work he had to do because of stupid Greece not being able to manage his money. In his mind, this break was totally earned. He picked up the fork and knife, and cut into the hot food. A large bite was piled onto his fork, and with a quick look around his warm, peaceful kitchen, he popped it in his mouth.

Oh, yes.

Now, it took very little to keep Romano content, although nobody seemed to understand how to do it (expect for _Spagna_, but really, experience was the only thing helping him. Because any and all forms of intelligence had been either beaten out of him or died of old age). Good food was one of these few things, and he didn't mean decent food that could pass, like France's. He didn't mean vaguely digestible starchy crap that the potatoes ate. And he didn't mean that... _merda_ that _Inghilterra _tried to claim was edible- no. He wasn't even going to go there.

No, he meant good, hearty _Italiano_ food that filled the stomach and delighted the taste buds. And occasionally _Spagnolo_. But only because there were so many tomatoes used in the _stupido_'s recipes.

One such example was the pasta dish that lay in front of him. A dish he was going to waste no time devouring. He scooped up another forkful and was about to put it in his mouth when knocks echoed throughout the small house.

Romano didn't have a very big home, due to money issues and the fact that the upkeep of such a home was far above the level of housework he was willing to do. He had done enough of that _merda_ when he lived with _Spagna_, and he was going to be damned if he had to do it now he was independent. So the house was modest, had three bedrooms in case of guests - although beyond his _fratellino _and _Spagna_, no one else really came to see him, at least, not overnight. He couldn't say he was unhappy with this arrangement.

So the size of his house meant that the sound was very loud and unavoidable - and to his horror, in a recognisable pattern. The melodic taps were _too _familiar, and he let out a groan when it sunk in.

Damn it all! Couldn't Veneziano have stayed lost! That _monello_ had to come and visit him, didn't he? And on the very day Romano had accepted the northern half's absence and planned accordingly. In essence, he was going to eat his lunch, finish up the work, make dinner, and then get drunk on good red wine while sitting in his garden watching the sun set. Quite tame for him, but it was what he felt like doing!

And now, the dumbass would never leave, and he would be stuck lecturing and babysitting the runt until the kraut felt like coming to get him. _Dio_!

He slammed the fork down on his plate - the _lasagna_ would get cold, damn it! - and marched out of the kitchen. As he grew closer to the door, he noted with confusion (not apprehension! It wasn't as if he was worried!) that he couldn't hear any sounds. Odd. Usually, Veneziano would be whining to be let in, or if Romano had been stupid enough to leave the door unlocked, he would already be helping himself to his brother's meal. It had become so predictable, almost down to the second he started, that Romano was nearly shocked (but not unhappy, any silence was welcome from Veneziano. ANY.) at the lack of his brother's voice.

He stopped around two feet from the door, and paused for a moment. Still no noise. Surely Veneziano had heard him storm through the house? He should be screaming apologies at disturbing his irate brother by now, pleading not to be hit.

Romano shrugged and decided to just go for it; he flicked up the lock, and opened the door wide.

"What are you doing here, _idio_-!"

Something collided with Romano's face before he could react, and everything went dark.

* * *

Romano moaned in pain as some form of consciousness returned to him. His nose was aching, and he could feel the dried blood which had ran down his upper lip. He winced at the pain and he shifted his body a little. How long had he been out?

When he didn't move, he opened his eyes in some surprise, and the extremely bright light shining in his face caused him to scrunch them shut again. Knowing that trying to see again was pointless, he tried to ascertain the situation blind. He shifted his jaw, and felt that there was material in his mouth. Alright, he'd been gagged. He shuffled his position, and felt he was tied to something, and his hands were bound behind his back. There was a hard backing to whatever he was tied to, so he was presuming a wooden chair. Probably in his kitchen.

He found it quite humiliating to be in this situation again, but really, this wasn't time to dwell on the past.

For one, he had no idea how in the hell he had gotten to be like this, nor why. Or, perhaps the most important thing of all - who did this to him? It couldn't be Veneziano; this was his stupid _fratellino_ he was talking about, and really, the last time he had seen the _idiota _try something like this it was to someone else, and nearly a century ago; he hadn't even been able to get the job done out of pity, and Romano had had to take over. Since then, his _fratellino _had lost all possible modes of backbone, and had become that damn kraut's bitch. Not his proudest moment. Veneziano never managed to do anything that needed doing, well, except that one time... But he wouldn't speak of it.

He tested the bindings, and another moan escaped when he realised the knots were iron tight. Damn. He began to try harder, determined to get out of this.

He stopped when a low chuckle reached his ears, and he automatically opened his eyes again. How could he have forgotten about his captor?

This time, the light was less piercing, and he noticed it was just the sunlight coming through the kitchen (as he thought) window. _Cazzo_. It must be because of the whack his head got.

He felt some anger build as he looked around the room, searching for the poor fool who had thought to do this to _Italia fucking Romano_.

Then, two hands whipped down the gag, and Romano's mouth was free.

"Why don't you show yourself, _figlio di puttana_!" He spat at whoever thought this was funny. Honestly, he had the urge to go and dig out his old handgun and shoot the _stronzo_ in the balls.

"Why are you so mean to me, _fratello_?" Romano froze. It really, _really_ couldn't be.

Romano had seen and heard some fucked up things in his time, but this one took the cake. The thought - evidence he didn't want to acknowledge - that _Veneziano _had been the one to do this was past the realms of human capability, and Romano had to blink quite a number of times to get his brain to function. It just didn't compute.

The deep laugh made another appearance, so unlike who it claimed to be, caused wary shivers to shoot up Romano's spine, and he tried to turn in his chair to see the source. But the ropes made any movement pointless, and he soon gave up. He waited.

"Surprised, _fratello_? I know I was, when I awoke like this. So... angry, and feeling so different than usual. Can you tell me why?" The entire speech was childish, and Romano's eyebrows furrowed in overwhelmed confusion. The voice sounded like Veneziano usually did, but he could also hear an undertone of falseness, as if the pitch and the play on words was faked.

Of course! It wasn't Veneziano.

"Show yourself, you _bastardo_! You aren't Veneziano - you don't sound like him, and you don't fucking well act like him! What the hell do you want from me?"

Demanding they let you go never worked, so he wasn't about to waste his breath.

"Aw." The voice sounded sad. "_Fratello_ doesn't believe his ears. Will he believe his eyes?"

Suddenly, a person came into view from around Romano's side, and the elder Italian's mouth went dry.

The figure was clearly a man, with a very obvious face. _Veneziano_. However, instead of his old blue army clothes or his latest Armani suit, Veneziano was wearing a uniform much like Romano's own during the Second World War, but a darker brown. Two bright red tassels hung from his waist, and a strange hat was perched on top of his head. It matched the uniform, but had a black feather sticking out the back. Romano gulped when he saw a small, long knife that his - brother? - was swinging around whilst humming. He'd seen that before...

Romano almost called out for his brother in shock before he saw the defining characteristic. Instead of having closed amber eyes which rarely saw daylight, they were wide open, and _not_ brown. They were a transparent red, almost pink, and reflected the light eerily.

What...? It couldn't be _him_ again... Could it?

Veneziano spun and leaned against Romano's table, lifting, to Romano's ire, the abandoned _lasagna_. He took a bite.

"Mmmm, yum! Still warm." Okay, so Romano hadn't been out long. Good.

"So, does _fratello_ have a sore head?" That was followed by an amused, high pitched giggle, and Romano scowled warily - still unsure as to what was happening. When he woke up this morning, he wasn't expecting this.

"What is this, _c__oglione_?" Romano didn't bat an eyelid at the profanity, but almost at the abrupt violent reaction he received when the younger had been innocently eating.

Veneziano leapt out of his lounging against the table, and Romano's head snapped to the side as a hand connected viciously to his left cheek. Romano was left gasping from the force, and his brother pulled the gag back up. Veneziano then span away skipping, and with a sort of false daintiness, propped himself back where he had been. He stabbed one of the _pomodorini_ with that knife, and then pulled it off with his teeth.

When he had finished chewing it, he pointed the knife at Romano in what could be taken as a threat.

"That was just plain rude, _fratello_!"

Then, as if the smack hadn't been enough to affect Romano, the voice was dropped.

"I wouldn't say that again, if I were you." Veneziano smirked, and then shrugged. "But it's just a suggestion."

Romano tried to speak, but all that came out was muffled words that no one could understand. Veneziano chuckled.

"Ah, down to business then. Forgive me for the interruption, _fratello_... I certainly did not want to ruin your lunch."

He snorted and skewered another _pomodorini,_ leaving it on the point, and began to use the knife to punctuate his words.

"But... we need to talk about something very important."

He brought the knife to his mouth, and ran his tongue slowly from the hilt to the fruit, pulling it into his mouth. His spooky eyes connected to Romano's angry pair as he did so, and he smirked again, almost flirtatiously.

"You see, my cherished brother, I heard an awful rumour through the grapevine. A rumour about something _I _had done. Can you believe that?" He continued without pause.

"No, I didn't either. How could anyone have heard such a thing?" The question was rhetorical, but still he looked to Romano as if expecting an answer. He sighed disappointedly when he saw only a look of helpless puzzlement on his brother's face, and kept playing with the knife in his mouth.

"I'll elaborate, since you still don't understand. Only one person knew about this specific occurrence. An event I denied, of course, and they believed all too easily; but what brings me here today is just the principle of the thing, really. That I couldn't _trust _you with a secret~!"

Veneziano watched with intent eyes as it dawned on the elder Italian, and he clapped his gloved hands together twice as his captive began to struggle with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Ah, I was wondering when exactly you would get it. Really - and you call me stupid! Haha!" What began as a throaty laugh rapidly evolved into girlish giggling, as he stopped handling his knife so dangerously. He stood up straight, and began to make his way towards his older brother.

Romano kept moved, trying with all his might to escape the ropes. He saw that look, the half-insane look which graced his _fratellino's _changed countenance. He had last seen that spark decades ago, back when it was the first time he had ever feared Veneziano. What he had thought was the last time. An event he had tried to forget, and bury beneath the obviously oblivious personality that was his _fratellino's_ - a personality he accepted and attempted to banish any questions as to its sincerity. But eventually he needed a second opinion, and despite swearing he would never tell - threatened by the very weapon that was about to press itself to his skin - he had spoken to _Spagna _under the strictest confidence. He found it hard to believe, no matter how stupid he was, that the Spaniard had told anyone. So how in all the hells did it spread around!

However intriguing this was, Romano felt that his approaching sibling was due more attention, and so he kept his gaze locked on the blade as he wriggled. Come on, come on!

His fear grew as a wolfish grin spread itself unnaturally across Veneziano's face. Oh, _dio_.

He whined a little, and panic set in as nothing would budge.

"You understand, of course, don't you? After all, isn't this the sort of thing you did to the informants you caught in the thirties?"

Veneziano stopped and stood between Romano's legs. He bent down, and pressed the flat of the blade to his _fratello's _cheek. His eyes watched the way Romano's skin flushed under the cool metal almost obsessively.

He ran it back and forth gently, tipping the blade slightly so the edge could be felt.

Romano shuddered.

"I know you probably don't believe me, but I don't want to end you, _caro fratello__. _After all, it's pretty difficult to kill us, isn't it? And the mess. Not the blood, that's rather simple to deal with; but the body. Far too hard to dispose of, especially in this area. You have very nosy neighbours, did you notice? They gaped out of their windows as I walked up your path, and really, one can only hope they didn't see me knock you out. Now _that _would be a challenge to explain."

Romano listened with growing horror at the casual words, as he understood just how far his brother had gone. He was more concerned about the bother it would cause _him_, if he were to kill Romano. There was no hint of familial love ever having existed here. He was talking of offing his older brother.

Romano felt sick to his stomach, and he could feel the acid in the back of his throat. Tears built up in his eyes.

Veneziano's other hand caressed Romano's cheek softly, and he gasped in mild surprise as a droplet of water ran over his gloved fingers. He slid the knife into his sleeve and cupped both of the other's cheeks in his hands, patting them in an attempt to console the terrified elder.

"Oh, Lovi, oh! Don't cry, _mio__ fratellone_. I'll promise I'll try to make it as painless as possible - although I don't know how. I'll try, that's the main thing, isn't it? That saying; it's the thought that counts! Haha!"

A sob shook Romano's chest as Veneziano then rubbed their cheeks together and retrieved his blade once more.

The younger man sighed, much like he was scolding a child.

"You're acting as if I'm about to murder you! _Sciocchino_! I just need to be certain that you can't tell anyone else that _odioso _lie_. _I know that dead men can't talk, but neither can men with no way to communicate!"

Veneziano then gave a mockery of an innocent smile, and Romano began to toss his head back and forth.

The northern half of the country then let out a breath of air of seemingly reluctant acceptance.

"_Si_. You caught me. I lied."

He then threw out the knife, catching the point at the corner of Romano's right eye. And pulled to the left viciously.

It seemed the duty of doing away with Romano's filthy mouth fell to him.

A muffled scream filtered through the gag, and Veneziano cackled.

* * *

**I know - I did it again! Left it on a cliffhanger!**

**But really, I have no idea how to write continuous violence enough to keep you lot sated and interested, so I decided to leave it to the little 2P!Vene that lives inside all of us. Enjoy.**

**I feel so guilty about what I did to Romano. I love him to bits, and it hurts me to hurt him. But 2P!Vene was going to hurt me more if I didn't unleash him on his brother; so there you go. **

**Check out the songs 'Secret' by The Pierces (perfect for the 2P!Universe) and 'I Can't Decide' by the Scissor Sisters.**

**Also, there is a link on my profile to the image by MoonyL00ny on deviantart that inspired this; leave a comment there if you enjoyed this! All inspiration belongs to him/her.**

**Review please - this is my first venture into the 2P, and I want to know if I did good!**

**REVIEW!**

**Lynn**


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